


Ties

by thescienceofsherlolly



Series: Sherlollicious [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, John is always done, John is done, Kissing, Moran has been a naughty wotsit, Sexual Tension, Tied Up Together, well there's supposed to be
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-05
Updated: 2016-02-05
Packaged: 2018-05-18 07:44:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5907739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thescienceofsherlolly/pseuds/thescienceofsherlolly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock and Molly, after attending the Watson-Morstan nuptials, wake up tied-up together with no memory of how it happened</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ties

**Author's Note:**

  * For [potemkinx](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=potemkinx).



> based on a prompt I received from potemkinx on tumblr way back in November 2013: Sherlock, Molly and ties... xx

_original prompt fill[x](http://thescienceofsherlolly.tumblr.com/post/66032997694/sherlock-molly-and-ties-a-prompt-from-the)_

* * *

 

 

Molly Hooper groaned, an overwhelming sense of disorientation washing over her as she came to; she blinked her eyes open, able to discern the room was half-covered in darkness. The only light source streamed through the open windows, casting the room in an ominous orange glow. Her head was in agony and she didn’t remember a single thing from the night before. Molly shook her head, blinking repeatedly in an attempt to focus the room; it was then she realised she couldn't move, her hands having been tied around something soft. Her arm muscles burned with the strain of being constantly aloft, oh…and she was gagged. A pained, deep groan sounded near her ear and Molly froze, listening intently. She felt a weight lift from her shoulder as the distorted figure opposite her regained consciousness.

Sherlock Holmes wasn’t accostomed to feeling confused, which is why this current situation less than amused him. A brief glance around the room told him everything he needed to know – his hands were bound around the waist of one Molly Hooper and they were sitting uncomfortably opposite each other on simple chairs, rendered unable to move due to the fact their ankles were secured. They were both dressed formally, having attended the Watson-Morstan nuptials and Molly’s wrists were held tight around his neck, forcing them to lean forwards. Molly's mouth was gagged with a rough-looking fabric whereas he was without; Sherlock glanced at the floor and sighed. Sure enough, a cloth meant for him rested at his feet - he concluded Mrs. Hudson had disturbed whomever had done this. Finally, and most perplexing, they were in Sherlock’s bedroom at 221B Baker Street; Molly, who had been watching him study the room carefully, cleared her throat gently but knew it was pointless trying to speak. Sherlock shook his head slightly, his head pounding.

“Um, I don’t know..." he started, still looking around the room; he glanced at her when she trembled against him, “…are you alright?”

Molly nodded, hating the blush that was spreading over her skin; it was hard being close to him at the best of times - Sherlock biting into his lip and narrowing his eyes certainly didn't help. His eyes scanned her body, checking for signs of injury.

“Well, we should...” he nodded awardly at her mouth restraint.

Molly quirked an eyebrow, a silent question as to how they were going to achieve this which he ignored. Instead, Sherlock leaned forwards until his and Molly’s foreheads pressed together and attempted to move his hands up her back; this proved disastrous. His hands moved slowly and he frowned in concentration, his tongue between his teeth; Molly didn’t know such an action could be so adorable coming from a grown man. It was almost unfair when the ties restricting Sherlock’s hands caught on the back of her dress; Molly gasped into the filthy cloth when her zip was tugged down as Sherlock attempted to free himself.

"Uh…sorry."

Molly shook her head forcefully, her face overheating whilst Sherlock was thankful half of the room was shrouded in darkness so Molly wouldn’t see his own blush. Molly herself hadn't escaped unaffected; feeling Sherlock this close, not to mention him inadvertently undressing her, was doing unspeakable things to her. With a huff, the detective leaned forwards once more and, very carefully, hooked his teeth over the fabric covering Molly’s mouth, accidentally brushing his lips along her silky skin as he did so. Molly’s heart threatened to burst out of her chest but nevertheless, she managed to wriggle free of her gag and it slipped loosely around her neck. She took note, thanks to a large backflip from her stomach, of how Sherlock hadn’t moved away – their eyes locked and Molly wondered if his had been that dark before. Sherlock cleared his throat, tryin in vain to keep his voice steady.

“Good. That’s, um…done. Can…you move your hands?”

Blinking rapidly, Molly brought her hands up to the back of Sherlock’s neck; she could easily bring her hands over his head with the way they had been placed. She _accidentally_ pulled lightly on his hair as she tried to get free.

“Um…no. C-can you?”

Sherlock breathed sharply as Molly’s hands finally relaxed, disappointed at the loss of her touch. After firmly clearing his throat, he tried moving his hands lower, grazing down her back, only the restrictions his bonds provided seemed to have the opposite effect. Molly’s zip had now completely dropped down her dress and Sherlock, no matter how hard he tried, couldn’t seem to get it moving again – this meant his hot, large hands were smoothing bare skin. Unlike the previous time, Molly didn’t care at all she'd been inadvertantly undressed. He swallowed thickly, meeting her lust-filled gaze.

“No,” Sherlock couldn’t keep the huskiness from his voice nor did he try to conceal it; he chose to distract himself by glancing around the room for something to free them. After a moment, he nodded decisively, “…right, we'll need to get to the kitchen.”

Molly nodded and shifted her hips forward until she was perched on the edge of her chair, Sherlock copying her. Somehow, they'd managed to clumsily pull each other upright, steadying each other with firm grips. They began to uneasily hop towards the bedroom door, heading for the kitchen. Unfortunately, due to the fact she was focusing on something other than where she was going, Molly slipped and stumbled backwards, landing uncomfortably on the floor; this, of course, meant that Sherlock had been pulled down with her, landing directly on top of her. Blushing furiously, Molly squirmed beneath him, avoiding Sherlock’s intense stare.

“Oh, God, I’m sorry…I didn’t- I mean, I’ll just-”

“Shut up. Just, kiss me…please.”

The consulting detective was fed up, all of it was too much; her innocent brown eyes, velvety soft skin, heavenly voice and soft parted lips pushed the words from his mouth. Molly ceased her squirming and gaped at him, her stomach exploding in butterflies as she twisted her fingers through his curls, bringing her hands down until their lips were mere inches apart. Before anything else could happen, Sherlock’s bedroom door flew open and John Watson stumbled inside, raising his eyebrows at the sight before him. Sherlock muttered something about tripping over as John freed them, a smug looking grin on his kindly face. Once free, Molly moved to sit on the edge of the bed, rubbing her sore wrists and smiling softly at Sherlock; the detective himself was busy clenching and unclenching his fists irritably.

“So, you two have had quite the time…” he grinned, folding his arms; when he was met with confused stares he rolled his eyes, “oh, come on…what the hell happened? The last time I saw you, you two had your tongues stuck down each other's throats before running off back here. Together.”

His smugness was near unbearable and Molly quickly closed her open mouth, glowing red as she stared at the floor; Sherlock frowned, gritting his teeth as he spoke.

“I don’t remember.”

“Well, you'd had a few,”John nodded, glancing between them.

In that moment, Sherlock could not have cared less how he and Molly ended up in such a state; he just wanted to finish the night as he'd apparently intended to - one glance at Molly told him she had the same problem. John didn't seem to notice their little looks as he nervously checked his watch, mumbling something about his honeymoon. After what seemed like an age to the detective and his pathologist, Sherlock huffed out an annoyed breath and stomped to his bedroom door, yanking it open.

“Goodbye, John. Have a nice honeymoon…we'll see you when you return. Give my regards to Mary.”

John frowned, protesting firmly as he found himself being hauled hastily out of the room by his two friends before the door was slammed in his face. The second the door closed on the poor bemused doctor, Sherlock pinned Molly tight against it and kissed her passionately, pouring every emotion she had ever given him into it. John sighed as he heard the resulting thud against the closed door, muffled moans reaching his ears.

“Yup. Have a good one, mate.” When it became apparent clothes were no longer a necessity for his friends, John quickly made his exit…

Sherlock and Molly would later learn their predicament was down to Jim Moriarty via his associate Sebastian Moran. Whilst neither of them knew of the intended outcome, they both decided they didn't really care.


End file.
